


Easy

by ApatheticRobots



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, It's not that serious i promise, M/M, Mild Gore, One Shot, People in suits making mistakes, Talon attempts to have a plan, as expected with these two junkers nothing goes right, gay idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 18:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18504640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApatheticRobots/pseuds/ApatheticRobots
Summary: This mission was supposed to be easy....But since when had Talon ever been right about anything?





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know how to tag
> 
> hey forwarning im a filthy american so any aussie slang used was gotten from the internet. meaning if i fucked shit up and you know better please lemme know thank ya
> 
> also this one actually IS beta read for once!! love ya Cas, thank ya kindly.

This mission was supposed to be _easy._

They’d been following the targets for months. Making notation after notation regarding their behaviors, movements, interactions. Documenting anything that they thought they could use. They put a lot of work into this.

The shorter one was loud and volatile, much like the explosives he always carried with him. Permanently singed hair and several limbs missing gave them a pretty good idea of the danger he’d pose. He was stupid, and impulsive, but still a rather threatening force when armed with anything that could be blown up. If they could get somewhere explosives would be ineffective, he’d be taken care of.

The big one was a more challenging case. He was the one they were really interested in. The silent, stoic type, deadly with the scrap-loaded gun and giant hook of his. He could brute force his way out of almost any situation and intimidate his way out of the rest. Not the brightest bulb in the box, but certainly not the dullest either. They’d seen him salvage a thought-ruined heist armed with nothing but a jagged pipe and that mask of his.

Lackluster in appearance and sloppy in his work, but with proper training and supplies a surely invaluable asset to Talon.

The main challenge was getting them separated. No matter where they went or what was happening, the two barely left one another alone for longer than five minutes tops. Talon didn’t want much to do with the short one (they had enough impulse-driven firepower as it was), but the wall of muscle he traveled with could prove useful if convinced to side with the organization.

Some money and booze exchanged with some Junkers in a seedy bar in the Outback gave the undercover Talon agents some information regarding the agreement between the two. The shorter supposedly had knowledge regarding the whereabouts of some sort of ‘treasure’. In exchange for receiving half the treasure, the big one would act as his bodyguard.

So Talon’s plan was simple: offer him more to join their side.

Money was no issue. With the wealthy folk and politicians they had in their ranks, they could afford to buy out anyone. Especially some Aussie who was being paid in a treasure he had no proof existed.

The plan went something like this. Get the two apart from each other, bribe the big one into joining them, take the smaller one to a secure location and dispose of him. Easy as pie.

Or it was _supposed_ to be.

Two agents were tailing them as they walked through the streets of Venice, drawing odd looks from the surrounding crowds as they did. It would be hard not to; the mountain of a man that was their target and his wired, twitchy, shouting companion stood out like a pair of sore thumbs. No one seemed outright _suspicious,_ but more than a few tightened their grips on their bags and walked a bit faster.

As if that would really save them if the short one decided to start blowing things up.

In any other situation, Talon would just have a few of their stealthier members quietly abduct the target and apologize profusely later, claiming it was for everyone’s own good. But no amount of stealth or tricks would let them bring the big one anywhere he didn’t want to go. They doubted their normal amount of tranquilizer would work on him, and they didn’t want to accidentally kill him by upping the dosage. So they just sent two people who could blend in to follow him until they could get him alone for a minute.

The short one stopped suddenly, grabbing the big one’s hand and pointing excitedly down a small side street. He ran off, tugging his bodyguard after him. The two Talon agents exchanged a nod and followed. There were more agents in the surrounding buildings, ready to slip out at a moments notice and offer support- should it be needed. All going well, they’d never have to even glance outside.

The short one had his face pressed up against the window of a shop. He gestured at the place, and after a nod from the big one, darted inside.

Perfect.

One of the Talon agents approached the bodyguard left standing outside, the other slipping off to find a door to the cellar under the particular shop the short one had entered. The former stopped in front of the target, clasping her hands behind her back and clearing her throat.

“Pardon me, sir,” she began, putting on her best _you can trust me_ voice. “If I could just have a minute of your time?”

After no response in the form of words or actions, she took it as a sign to continue. “I work for an organization under the name of Talon. We’ve seen the things your capable of, and we would like to offer you a… deal of sorts.”

...What she got was only a reaction if you used the term loosely. His stance shifted slightly. His expression was concealed behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses and a medical face mask, his normal one being a bit too recognizable for a civilian to wear.

“We’re aware of the situation with your current employer. We know what he’s offered you, and we would like to offer you something better.”

No response. A muffled sound from inside the shop. She continued.

“We’ve seen what you're capable of, and frankly we’re very impressed. We can give you better weaponry, armor, anything you need. All while we’re paying you.”

Another thud, louder this time, along with a shout. The bodyguard’s head turned slightly towards the noise. The agent pressed on.

“We’re a widespread organization, we have roots everywhere. You’ll be able to get anything you need, and you won’t have any trouble with any sort of authorities.”

An accented curse that was cut off seconds later.

The bodyguard snapped to attention. He turned, about to stride into the shop, but the agent had already moved between him and the doors. “Sir, if you’ll just-“

He shoved her aside. Literally.

In a moment of something-like-anger, she went to place a hand on his arm. “Mr. Ruthledge-“

Quicker than she could blink, she found herself being held up against the brick wall of the building by a massive hand on her throat. The steel of a hook sharp enough to tear a man in half was pressed into her stomach.

“M’name,” the target said, more of a growl or a wheeze than proper words, “is Roadhog.”

The agent was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, left coughing with her arms wrapped around herself. Roadhog stepped away, turning to head inside the shop.

“We’ll pay you triple,” she managed to get out despite the pain speaking brought. “Whatever he’s offered you. We’ll triple it.”

He didn’t even glance in her direction. Just ducked inside.

“Mission compromised,” she muttered into her communicator. “Target is… being difficult.”

There was a sound like a _roar_ from inside the shop. The agent scrambled out of the way as a body was thrown through the shop’s front window and glass rained over the street. She gaped at the battered form of her coworker, bloodied and bruised.

The target- Roadhog stepped out of the hole made from him throwing the man out the window, marching over to the agent and grabbing her by the front of the shirt. She’d never really felt _afraid_ in her line of work, but she sure as hell was now.

“Where. Is. He.” His tone held nothing but sheer anger.

“I- I don’t know what-“

Wrong thing to say, apparently. She was hurled against the ground, spared not a moment to recover as a boot-clad foot was pressed down on her chest. She choked out a wheeze.

“Where the _fuck_ is he?”

“W-warehouse,” she coughed out, feeling something warm running down her chin. She tasted blood. “Outside city- secure. Out ‘f th’ way. Easy to hide a-“ He removed his foot, and there was a sudden stabbing pain in her abdomen. Broken rib. “Easy to hide a body.”

Good news, the stabbing pain was gone. Bad news, so was her skull, after being met with a particularly hard stomp from one of his massive boots. The scene was gory and brutal, a real mess. Something out of a crime novel.

Roadhog was covered in blood and bits of shattered glass, his civilian outfit ruined. He didn’t seem to care. He strode out of the alleyway, sun glinting off his mirrored sunglasses.

 

* * *

 

 

“-An’ I swear if you gits don’t let me outta this roight now, I’ll turn this place int’ a fuckin’ ash tray!”

The Talon agent that’d been tasked with interrogating and eliminating the short one hanging around their target was seriously starting to rethink his life choices. The soldiers sent to assist him had already stepped outside under the excuse of ‘keeping watch’ which meant he was alone in the torment of having to listen to this dunderhead jabber on and on about all the different ways he or his bodyguard (whom he called ‘Roadie’ or ‘Hog’ or some combination of the two) were going to kill him and his guards. Which he wasn’t too worried about- death threats were a common thing- but this guy just would not _shut up_.

So, really, he couldn’t be blamed for losing his temper. “Oh would you just be quiet!” he shouted, backhanding the man tied up across the face. “For God’s sake, you’re about to be killed, and you’re still talking!”

The man blinked, then burst out laughing. “Roight. Sure. Like Roadie’d let that happen. I carn’t be killed, mate, then ‘e’d have no one t’ pay him.” He’d give the weirdo kudos for confidence, if nothing else.

The Talon agent found himself grinning despite it all. “Except he would,” he said, crossing his arms. “Our offer is triple what you would’ve paid.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Triple?” He leaned closer (the best he could, considering he was tied to a chair) and lowered his voice. “You really got that kinda money somewhere, mate?”

“That and more. With a windfall like that on the table, he’ll be working for us and you’ll be down a bodyguard.” That should’ve been that. The blond would realize exactly how screwed he was, and he’d chill out a bit now that he knew he was genuinely about to die.

 _Should’ve been_ being the key phrase here, considering the man in the chair was now laughing like someone just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard in his life. The Talon agent grew… nervous.

“What’s so funny?” No answer, just more laughter. The agent drew his gun and pointed it at the man’s head. “Tell me, now, or I’ll pull the God damn-

“Wha- What’re you blatherin’ about, mate?” The man interrupted. “‘Hog wouldn’t be swayed by some stiffs in suits offerin’ cash! We’re square, we’re mates, ‘e’s got my back and I got his!” He grinned, eyes a bit wild. “An’ you lot’re in for one hell’uva treat when ‘e finds out you’ve gone an’ tied me up an’ pointed a pistol at me forehead. Last time someone tried t’ kill me they found themselves missin’ a good few limbs an’ such!”

The Talon agent grit his teeth. Now, he wasn’t the greatest at reading the subtext in people’s words. He wasn’t the best in social situations, he wasn’t well-versed in the implications behind the things some people said. They had social agents better skilled for when that was necessary. But if what this maniac he had tied to a chair was saying, if he and the target were anything more than just employer and employee-

A thud outside.

This situation just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

Another thud. The Talon agent blanched, grip on his gun tightening.

The man in the chair burst out laughing, kicking his feet (foot? foot and peg) excitedly. “Oi!” He shouted, voice no less loud even after having been talking for half an hour straight. “Oi ‘Hog!! In here, mate! Bastard’s got me tied t’ a chair, th’ right git!”

The Talon agent’s move to raise his gun was interrupted by something cold and sharp catching around his waist. He was jerked off his feet and towards a hulking figure that stood in the doorway, blocking most of the fading light coming in from the outside. He had a massive hook (so that was what grabbed him) attached to a chain in one hand, and a gun that looked like it’d been made from the ruined parts of a car in the other. Said gun was aimed at the Talon agent’s chest. He just had enough time to start screaming before the (probably former) target pulled the trigger and his chest was riddled with bits of metal scrap, fired with the force of a shotgun at point-blank.

He wasn’t quite dead yet, but the giant of a man didn’t seem to care. He moved his hook slightly and the agent fell to the ground in a curled up heap. From his skewed perspective, he could see the big one go over to the man in the chair and cut the ropes with the hook like they were made of butter rather than the high-grade threads Talon used. As soon as he was loose, the blond was scrambling up and situating himself on the big one’s shoulders.

“‘Ello Hoggy! Knew you’d find me! Told the bugger, I did, I said ‘me an’ ‘Hog are square, an’ he’s goin’ ta bust y’r skull when he gets here.’ I did tell him!” He sounded pretty chipper for someone that’d had a gun pointed at his head maybe five minutes ago.

Some part of the agent’s pain-addled brain remembered that the man had only sort of said that, and in decidedly more words, but he was a little too busy bleeding out to bring it up.

The big one said nothing, simply adjusting the still-chattering man on his shoulders slightly and turning to leave the building. He walked past the agent on the ground.

“Oh! There’s th’ bloke!” _Shit._ “Hey, mate! I- Y’can’t say I didn’t warn ya!” Heavy footsteps approaching. They stopped a foot or so away from the agent. He didn’t bother to turn and look. “Because I did warn ya! Roadie doesn’t really like when people try t’ kill me, an’ I can’t say I like it much either.”

Something small and round was suddenly tossed next to the agent’s head.

“Little parting gift before we go!”

The agent didn’t know what it was specifically, but his knowledge of the duo led him to the conclusion it was something that was gonna blow up.

“Nah nah, I’m telling you, ‘Hog, place had some _right_ treasures,” and the blond was back to talking like they were just having a leisurely stroll. “Think we could go back? Owner’s probably not happy ‘bout you breakin’ his window, but I bet if we paid him real nice and all he might be willin’ t’…” The chattering voice as well as the footsteps faded.

There was a soft click.

The agent’s last thought was something along the lines of _we fucked up_ before he passed out and the bomb that’d been tossed near him exploded.

 

* * *

 

 

Once someone was called about the warehouse fire and officials actually arrived on the scene, Roadhog and Junkrat were long gone. They were heading out of Italy. At Junkrat’s insistence, though, they were sticking close to the Mediterranean. Lot of good jobs to be found there. Plus he knew Roadhog liked being close to the ocean.

It was deep into the night, now. Roadhog was seated on his motorcycle as it roared down the empty stretch of road. Junkrat was on the seat in front of him.

He didn’t like having the shorter man in the sidecar when they were going this fast. The chances that the shoddily attached mechanism would break off and send him flying were too great.

Junkrat was gesturing wildly as he recounted the tale of how he’d ‘had the guy on the ropes’ and ‘was almost out of there’ before Roadhog showed up. However, he didn’t hesitate to mention that he was still ‘really thankful’ that Roadhog had shown up when he did and gotten him out of there.

“Wasn’t a very good plan,” Junkrat said, and Roadhog wasn’t sure whose plan he was talking about. “Those blighters in the suits. Thinkin’ they could just bribe you away from me.” He glanced back at Roadhog, who was sure his expression was unreadable behind the mask. “They couldn’t, right? Cause the stiff that had me- he said they could offer ya triple.”

The lady he’d killed had said the same. He figured it was their go-to amount.

“An’ now- Now the treasure I’ve got ain’t no small penny, sure. Not somethin’ t’ scoff at. But triple’s a lot a' money, mate, and I guess I just want t’ make sure…” He trailed off.

It wasn’t often that Junkrat got this tone in his voice. Unsure, worried, insecure. The times when it came up were scarce, and rarely lasted long. Mostly because Roadhog hated hearing him like that and shut it down quickly. He was usually confident and brash- a stark difference from the almost meek way he spoke now.

“...Wanted t’ make sure you weren’t gonna leave me cause someone offered you better than I could.”

He pulled the motorcycle to a halt at the side of the road. Junkrat had turned around and was about to ask what all this was about, but was interrupted by Roadhog pulling his mask up just enough to be able to lean forward and pull Junkrat up into a chaste kiss.

It was brief, especially for the two of them in a secluded area, but it was enough to leave Junkrat red in the face with a dazed look in his eyes.

“Not leaving,” Roadhog rumbled as he tugged his mask back on.

“Roight,” Junkrat muttered, sitting back down and leaning against ‘Hog as the motorcycle started up again. “Brilliant. Absolutely. Stoked to hear it, mate.”

He couldn’t hear it all that well, thanks to the wind screaming in his ears, but he could feel Roadhog’s laughter behind him as the two drove on.


End file.
